Page 35 of Loving You

“Secret lover?”

Monty raised a brow at Bronx as he pushed up on his chest. “You’re the only secret I have—or want. Let me take care of it. Don’t go anywhere.” He climbed to his feet, regretting leaving the warmth of Bronx’s arms as hegrabbed his robe from the hook on the bathroom door and headed into the hall.

He tried to ignore the tremble in his hands as he reached for the knob and pulled the door open, but he didn’t want to do this. Not now. Not with Bronx in the house.

“Whose car is that?” His father’s voice was loud and demanding as he pushed past Monty, Poppy close at his heels. She shot Monty an apologetic look but kept her head down. “Tell me you’re not stupid enough to start driving again.”

Monty’s face heated. “I’m the one who gave up my license. You told me to keep it.”

“That was before I realized how dramatic your little…disease has become,” Rod said, waving a hand at him. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Monty a once-over. “You didn’t say hello to your mother.”

“Because my mother isn’t here,” Monty said. “And I’ll happily remind you that this is my home—one you have no claim over. So whatever you want?—”

“Is it a whore?”

Monty reared back. “I’m sorry,what?”

“Are you fucking a whore right now?”

“Rod!” Poppy hissed.

He shot her a glare. “Don’t pretend that wasn’t your first thought. The last thing we need is a scandal.”

“First of all,” Monty said, trying to control his tone. The more he got upset, the more he was likely to collapse, and he was tired of doing that. Not to mention, his balls were hanging freely in his robe, and he didn’t need to be on full display in front of Rod and his wife. “It’s none of your business. Second of all, no one knows or cares who I am, so if Iwasentertaining someone for pay, it wouldn’t matter. Thirdly, and I reiterate, it’s not your business.”

“So, the answer is yes, then. I’m not surprised that’s what your life has come to. I told you to give up on your nonsense and get married, but you wouldn’t listen. And now look at you. Disrespecting your mother in your home and paying to get your dick sucked. I hope to God you’ve been tested, Montez.”

Monty jumped three feet when he heard Bronx clear his throat in the doorway. He looked over, mortified, as Bronx walked a few feet into the room. He was wearing a pair of Monty’s sweatpants, which rode high up on his ankles, and his T-shirt clung to the sweat left on his chest.

He looked thoroughly fucked with his wild hair and slightly reddened eyes.

“Babe, did you hire entertainment for us tonight without telling me?”

Rod’s eyes went wide. “Who is this?”

“None of your?—”

“I’m his boyfriend,” Bronx cut in. He dragged his hand through his hair as he walked over, then extended it to Rod, who pointedly didn’t take it. Bronx shrugged and set his arm around Monty’s waist. The strength of the way he was holding Monty told him that Bronx was preparing for him to go cataplexic. The thoughtfulness of the gesture was almost as overwhelming as Monty’s anger and anxiety.

Rod scoffed. “Boyfriend. Right.” He sized Bronx up. “How old are you?”

Bronx laughed. “Why? Are you taking a survey?”

“You seem a little…mature for my son.”

“And this teenager wearing a wedding ring is your…daughter?” Bronx said.

Monty wasn’t sure what to call the emotion he was feeling.It was entirely new, thrilling and terrifying all at once. He cleared his throat. “Bronx, this is my father, Rodrigo, and his wife, Poppy.”

“So, that thing about glass houses and stones—your dad never got that memo?” Bronx asked. His voice was tight and low. He was angry, Monty realized.

Rod took a menacing step toward Monty, ignoring Bronx entirely. “What game do you think you’re playing? Putting on a show for me so I’ll what? Leave you alone?”

Monty’s eyes went wide. “You came into my house without calling. You’re interrupting my night.”

“You owe your mother an?—”

“She’s not my mother!” Monty started feeling flushed, face hot and tingly. Fuck, he was going to go down if he wasn’t careful. Bronx’s grip on him tightened. He softened his voice. “Please leave.”

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